Deadpool: On The Edge
by ScatterBrainedInk
Summary: Deadpool is currently working for a mob boss in New York. He is hired to take out a young japanese man, but that won't prove to be as easy as it sounds. Who is this person? Who is he related to? Why is he so important? And most importantly, how can Wade get out of this one alive? There's someone going for him. An old enemy. Please review!


Deadpool:

On The Edge

{Alright. Before I start this, I want to make another note. I haven't finished Spider-Man: Island X yet, basically before I'm lazy and I can't get into the Spider-Man mentality right, without it feeling forced. I'm sure you can understand. I'll get it done however. Anyway, this story is supposed to be in the same shared universe like the Spider-Man: Island X, and is supposed to take place 4 months before the events in that. I also want to give Deadpool a sense of seriousness and danger, and not it be a plain comedy story. I'll try to have those elements present in it aswell, but I also want this to be taken seriously, and Deadpool to. He's more than just a badass clown! :D. Anyway, hope I didn't bore you with this note, and let's start}

It was the night before Christmas... and... wait, no. Wrong story.

"Wooo!"

"You go at it girl!"

"Haha! I'm so fucked up tonight!"

Hundreds of drunk, drugged voices scream at the top of their lungs in a club. The electro/techno music is bumping through the walls. The colored laser lights flash through the crowd. This night was wild.

"Scotch."

A graggy, dried voice speaks at the bartender. The man that ordered was wearing a long, dark coat, a dark mask, and a pair of big, round goggles.

The bartender freezes for a moment, blinks, and looks at the bodyguard, which responds to the stare with a nod, so the bartender fills the order, a bit shakily.

"Thanks." He responds, grabbing the drink, pulling the mask up and flushing it down his throat. It burned. He likes it, licking the remains off his lips with his tongue. He turns around, glaring at the dancing crowd.

The bartender can't keep his eyes off this guy. Who was he? He was wearing a mask in the middle of the night in a packed club. Maybe he was a terrorist? Or something worse... maybe he was one of those super-powered psychopaths that kept terrorizing New York?... but the bodyguard said he was safe so... maybe he shouldn't worry.

The masked man kept the same position. One armed on the bar, while his body was turned towards the crowd. He started at them. Almost envious. But nobody could figure him out due to the covering of his face. Clearly, this guy was the weirdest one in the entire place. And there sure were some strange figures here.

A few jocks blurt out through the mass of people "Look over there, man! What the fuck?!" They laugh, pointing at the mask. They come closer.

The bodyguard tenses as they approach, and steps towards them. On his black shirt, was signed a name: "Mike."

The masked person doesn't flinch at neither of them.

"What the fuck is up with that mask, man? You some kind of freak?" The taunt, shoving their fingers near the masked man's face.

"That's enough." Mike, the bodyguard attempts to disperse them. The mask moves from the brick wall, to the drunk jocks. He doesn't react.

"C'mon, man!... If I'm gonna' be here I don't want fucking fucking weirdo's strolling around. Doesn't that seem fair? What kind of fucked up place is this? A muttie bar?" They yell back and laugh. One of them attempts to slap the masked man down.

"Agh!" The same guy yelps. His hand was caught in a hold, and then twisted. The masked figure stares at him, twisting further.

"Got a nice vocabulary there, pal."

His voice speaks again. Deadly and cold. "Let's loosen your tongue a bit." It all took place in a matter of seconds. The mask raises his right leg up quickly, bringing his shin powerfully between the jocks legs. A crunchy noise is heard. The others stare and blutter out non-sense that's muffled by the loud music.

He raises his goggles over his eyes, laying them on his forehead. Two, long circles were around his eyes. An under-mask? This guy sure was weird. His eyes looked through his opponents. The incapacitated attacker lands on his knees, screaming a loud, high-pitched yelp.

"That's enough, Wade." Mike orders him to stop. Wade kept a tight grip on the jocks hand, even if he was on the ground, on his knees, completely manhoodless now. The others weren't as hostile anymore.

"Hurm... meh." Wade grunts, breaking the jocks wrist without much effort. He lets him go, looking at Mike "...Happy now?"

Mike sighs.

Wade rolles his eyes and then looks back at the jocks. "...this is the part where you fuck off. You'll pick your guys up from the back alley, 'kay?"

The group frowns and responds with other taunts and threats. Other bodyguards however come by and take them away.

Wade stares at them, then looks at Mike, who was taller and more muscular then he was. "...took 'em long enough."

Mike shakes his head "You have to stop beating customers up, Wade."

Wade turns to the bartender and raises a finger, ordering another scotch "...but they were trying to attack me, dude!"

"They're just kids."

"..."

"Dumb kids."

"I was a dumb kid. You know what I did?"

Mike facepalms, and groans. He knows Wade will start with his war stories again. This guy was as bad as an 90 year old vet.

"I joined the army."

"Here we go again. Damn!... I've heard this one for a thousand times, man... You joined the army- then you got kicked out. You're no war-hero, get that through your head."

Wade pauses, and shrugs. "I disagree."

"Whatever."

"That's not what yo' wife' said."

Mike frowns and turns to face Wade slowly "...excuse me?"

"Oh, I'm just saying. I was -definately- her war hero last night. Know what I'm talking about?" He laughs.

Mike sends a punch

Wade blocks, counters, hits him in the jaw.

Mikes sends a kick into Wade's stomach. And they go like that for a while. They apparently like to do this every Saturday. Neither of them seriously hurt each other. The other bodyguards just think they do it for practice. Fortunately, most of the time they ended up in the backalley on their own, to continue their fighting.

Wade's Apartment

6:00 am

The clock rings.

"...ungh..." Wade groans. He was naked. Most of his body was covered by white sheets. He raises his right arm and dumps it down on top of the clock, which stops ringing after. He lays in his bed, opening his eyes and dragging his throat, pushing the sheets away and turning on his back.

It took a while for him to wake up properly. He looked at his own body and frowned.

He was bald. And badly disfigured. His whole body was covered by swallowed scars and burns.

Truthfully, it was hard for him to look at himself. Not just because of the way he looked, but just because... well... he hated himself. He had absolutely no reason to be proud of his actions.

Wade picks himself up, and goes to the bathroom. After a few minutes, he comes back and looks around. The entire place was a mess, though he didn't mind. His phone rings. Picking it up, Wade looks at the caller

Incoming call: Mr. John Smith

He groans and accepts "Yeah?"

"What the hell did you do last night?" A voice barks through the phone

Wade pauses for a moment, then shrugs "...beat a guy up? C'mon, boss. I did worse than that." He speaks, beginning to pull on his costume.

"Doesn't matter." He says with a sigh. "I have something important for you to take care of. Come see me, asap."

Wade puts on his shirt and belt, yawning in the phone "Yeah, yeah." He closes the call and drops the phone on his bed, stacking his swords on his back.

The owner of the club sits in his office. He was drinking a warm cup of coffee and enjoying a cigar. A bright red flash appears in front of his desk. After a second, Deadpool materializes in front of him. He was wearing his usual red and black suit.

The owner isn't surprised. He has hired Wade for months now. Out of them all, he's the only one who can get the job done well without being paid too much.

"Alright. What's up?" Wade asks, folding his arms over his chest.

"This guy." The boss throws a file on the desk, then gestures over his neck "You know what to do."

Deadpool picks the file up, and looks through it. A picture of a young, japanese man in a market is there. The file read:

Name: Kuni Tai

Age: 19

Deadpool raises a brow "...19? A kid?"

The boss shrugs "Problems?"

Wade shakes his head "Not really, no. I did younger. I just never thought you'd... well, need someone like this done."

"I don't believe you're hired to think that. No?"

He pauses, and nods "Good point... any special requests you want?

He gives the file back.

"No."

Deadpool smiles does a mock salute "Sir, yes sir! ...Consider it done." With that, he clicks his belt buckle and teleports away.

"...fucking loon..."

Later that day in his apartment, Wade prepares for the job

"I'm gonna' do this easy. Quick and clean." He thinks, loading his guns. "Don't think there's much point in making him hurt if it's not needed... still, this is gonna' be fun." He grins an evil, greedy smile. Cha-ching! Time to get paid!


End file.
